


Compromise

by DataSupremacy



Series: Tumblr Requests: NSFW [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Rough Sex, Smut without much plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 06:42:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DataSupremacy/pseuds/DataSupremacy
Summary: Lore has some jealousy issues to work out.
Relationships: Lore (Star Trek) / Reader
Series: Tumblr Requests: NSFW [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2206905
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Compromise

☆☆☆

Lore is furious. 

You can feel the spark of anger that ignites the atmosphere in the room before you see the Android, himself — tension takes the shape of this bar, filling every inch of it, settling down over your shoulders like a heavy cloak or a miserable premonition of another fight in your future. His self-righteous fury is like a magnet and it draws you to turn your head toward the doorway before you can think better of it, your gaze tracing over the arch of his eyebrows, the thin line of his lips pressed into a grimace over gritted teeth, and the thumping of an artificial muscle in his jaw as he watches you lift your glass of synthesized drink back to your lips and look away from him again, returning to the conversation that you’d been having with the Andorian next to you.

You’re putting so much false enthusiasm into this menial conversation that you don’t even realize that he’s not retreating from the bar in a rage, this time, or going out of his way to try to challenge your resolve by striking up conversations of his own; pitting his will against yours until one of you finally caves. (Until you cave. There’s no point in lying to yourself, he never breaks first.) Instead of falling back into any predictable pattern, he makes a beeline for you and you don’t even realize it until you feel his hands are on either side of your shoulders and his lips at your ear. 

“It’s time to come home, (Y/N),” He murmurs. His lips graze the shell of your ear as he quirks them into an affectation of a smile, but you don’t need to look at him to know that there’s no warmth behind the expression. “It’s late.” 

“Lore…”

There’s a note of warning in your tone, but you’re not sure who it’s for. Are you trying to stop him from letting his jealousy get the better of himself? Or are you trying to signal to the Andorian that now would be a good time to pick up his drink and go be cordial with someone else at this function? It’s an impossible question because no one, not even you, know who needs more protection from Lore: the world or himself. But if there is a god above, they intervene on your behalf before you have to decide which direction to sway in, because the man next to you seems to get the hint that there are lots of other places to be in Ten Forward apart from here and scurries away without another word. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” you gesture to the empty stool beside you with a grimace. “You might as well be comfortable as you glower and scare away anyone who might even think about talking to me.” 

“I did no such thing,” Lore sniffs at the accusation, but he does take the seat… and snatches the glass from your hand, stealing a sip. “I take it this is compliments of your new friend? You should have told him that you don’t like red wine.” 

“I was being polite. Something that you might try sometime.” 

You start to reach for the glass, feeling guilty at the thought of wasting it, but Lore gives you a look of contempt as he sets it down against the counter, sending it sliding well out of reach with a flick of his wrist… and successfully knocking over five other drinks in the process. 

“What is it with organic lifeforms,” he begins, ignoring the angry muttering from the people next to him. “And feeling obligated to martyr themselves for the sake of social graces? What do you really gain by sitting here, drinking that dreck and letting some decrepit Andorian bore you with tales of his youthful glory long since past? Humans spend every second of their existence rotting from the inside out, you think you’d choose to make it a pleasurable experience.” 

“Will you keep your voice down?!” 

You look in the direction that the ambassador had gone off into, holding your breath until you’re sure that he’s too far away to have heard what Lore said about him. You exhale sharply and then jump off the barstool, grabbing Lore by his shirt and pulling him along with you away from the crowd.

“Ooh, now this is more like it,” he purrs, not all cowed by the look that you give him.

You haul him along until you’re in the corner of the room, out of earshot from most everyone, and hiss at him.

“Not everyone gets to just do whatever they like, whenever they feel like it! If we all lived like that, chaos would rule the galaxy. And, believe it or not, I do actually get something out of accepting drinks I don’t like and sitting through boring conversation. For example, I get to keep my job. Which, if you’ll take a second to remember, is the only thing keeping me on this Starship. You might be able to room with Commander Data if all else fails, but I actually have to work to stay here. I know you don’t think it’s that important and you can tell me about twenty-five other planets you’d just drag me too, but I like being here. I like the Enterprise, I like my friends, and I like my -” 

“(Y/N),” Lore interrupts, suddenly thoughtful. “Could you take a step forward?” 

You’re already moving before you can even think to ask, “Why?” 

And Lore ducks his head down, bridging the remaining gap between the two of you, and kisses you.

And you… just… melt. 

It’s not fair, the way that he can just take control of you like that. His pale fingers pull at invisible strings that you never even knew were connected to you. He could tug, twist, and manipulate you without even trying. He kisses you and you know that the fight is over because you don’t want to keep arguing with him or trying to instill a sense of “good faith” into his damned stubborn programming when you could be right here, in his arms. He kisses you and you’re nothing but hot, eager, and needy for everything that he can offer and every torment he’ll taunt you with. 

He’s still kissing you, even as he starts to withdraw from the corner, his arm snaked firmly around your waist so that you have no choice but to move with him as he makes his way to double doors leading from Ten Forward, ushering you out into the corridor before you even realize what’s happened. 

“You are such a…” whatever insult you were about to heave at him is lost against his lips when he slants his mouth more firmly against yours, capturing the taste of your pitiful protests and kissing them from your mouth until the only word left that you can say is his name. 

“You know what I find thrilling?” Lore kisses each word into your skin as he drags his lips from yours to your jaw and then down the delicate curve of your throat. “I could fuck you right here. Right up against this wall, where anyone could come along and see just how little of a hold that Starfleet truly has on you. You don’t belong to them, you belong to me. I could tear this pitiful uniform from your body and you’d let me. Because, deep down, you know that you’d choose stimulation over social graces every single time.” 

He wraps his slender fingers around your throat, stopping you from being able to turn your head from his too-intense gaze when he looks at you. His gaze is unbearably scorching; it burns away every reservation you’ve ever had about anything. Strips you of the things that you know that you SHOULD do and leaves you only with an all-consuming want for everything he’s offering. 

You hate it when he does this to you. 

But you love it too.

“Do you think I’m selfish, darling?” He wraps his lips around the pet name like it’ll break if he’s too harsh with it. “Is it one of those irreparable flaws in my programming that wants to steal you away from this dull, listless life and teach you to enjoy all of the better things that existence has to offer than this? Or is it just ironic, that organic lifeforms like you invented pleasure and then just fucking forgot how good it feels to give in, until someone like me comes along and reminds you?” 

“Lore…” 

You can barely get out a whisper past the lump in your throat. The small, sane part of your brain is horrified by how close to giving into him you are; how easy it would be to say “yes” if he actually acted on any of the deviant acts that he’s purring about now. But the rest of you just doesn’t care. 

“I adore you,” he says, in response to your plea. He brushes his thumb over your trembling bottom lip, giving you whiplash with the suddenly gentle way he’s handling you. “The love I have for you is deeper than any other being of flesh and blood could ever conceive of. It’s not quantifiable by the limited standards of your species. So, I am going to let you keep Starfleet. You can wear your little pin, you can play in their world for eight hours of their day and be as rigid and boring as you want. But then? You’ll come home to me. You’ll let me show you what true devotion is. They don’t get to hold you from me longer than that, not when there is so much I have to show you and so little time to do it. Say yes to me now and come home. I’d rather see you bend than break…for now.” 

You can’t speak. 

You can barely breathe. 

All you can do is nod. 

But that’s enough for him.

***

You don’t remember how the hell you got from Ten Forward to your Quarters. It’s all a blur from the moment that he knocked your legs out from under you and caught you in the same fluid motion, lifting you up and breezing through the corridor faster than humanly possible. All you know from one minute to the next is that the fluorescent lighting has been changed to something dimmer; that the secure pressure of Lore’s hands pressing against your back is suddenly replaced by the bounce of a mattress. 

“Welcome home.” 

Lore’s words are like a physical caress, sending another wave of heat over your already flushed skin. He smoothly discards his shirt and kicks off his shoes before capturing you into another charged kiss, pleasure shooting through you like volts of electricity. With his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, he takes your comm badge and squeezes it in his fist, hard enough to destroy it. He tosses the ruined pin against the wall and growls something that sounds like “no interruptions” but your pulse is pounding too loudly in your ears for you to be sure. 

Here, in the privacy of your quarters, right and wrong go out the window. All sense of responsibility is stripped away as easily as your uniform when Lore pulls it off you, his lips, tongue, and teeth marking every inch of newly exposed skin that they can reach. You’ll be covered in bruises in the shape of his teeth, tomorrow, and the idea thrills you as much as the pressure and desire building up between the two of you does. You sit up against the bed, chasing his mouth in another desperate kiss, and hooking your fingers into the waistband of his pants, pulling them down and away from his body. Once all of your clothes are discarded, he pushes you back down and the two of you move together, skin to skin, just enjoying the thrill of sensation. 

You wonder what this feels like to him. If he gets the same feeling of heat under his skin, if lust drives him half-insane with nothing but instinct and need driving his action, and if his world narrows down to the heat of your two bodies and the sweet friction of his hard, artfully sculpted body moving over yours with perfect control. You wonder if what he feels is even half as good as what you do… or if you can even comprehend the depth of his emotions and where they take him. There’s a mystery in all of this.

…And then there’s the obvious, like the sharp sound of delight that rips from your throat when he uses his knees to force your legs to part and settles between them, slicking his cock with your arousal. He rocks his hips in measured movements that threaten to drive you insane, the friction setting fire to whatever might have been left of your inhibitions. You’d be begging, if you could. If he wasn’t kissing all the intelligible thoughts from your head, if his tongue wasn’t mimicking obscenity with the way that it moves against yours. 

There’s nothing you can do but cling to him and beg him with every movement of your body rocking to meet his; to silently ask him to make good on every filthy promise that he had ever whispered in your ear. It’s an act of mercy on his part that you don’t have to wait long. Whether he’s just as desperate as you or if he can tell that you’re not going to be able to withstand this dizzying onslaught of foreplay for much longer, he finally presses the head of his cock to your slick entrance and laughs when the combination of your hypersensitivity and over eagerness has you trying to impale yourself on him and finally sate that awful emptiness that you’re feeling in your core.

He doesn’t make it that easy for you, though. He holds his position, reaching down to brush your hair from your face so that he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me you want this.” 

There’s no other possible answer. “I want this.” 

With a grin to rival that of the devil’s, Lore gives you exactly what you’ve been begging for. 

He fills you with one, smooth thrust, taking the place of that unbearable emptiness. You cry out for him, wrapping your legs around his hips to both open yourself up to him and draw him in closer in a desperate desire to satisfy that desperate, wanton need that he created inside of you. He’s done toying with you, done taunting and pulling at your strings to see how far you can bend to his whims before you snap. There’s only mutual desire, now, every kiss reverent with passion and every movement of his hips sending ripples of shared pleasure through both of you.

It’s impossible to see any other way to live than this one and so easy to imagine an eternity spent with Lore moving inside of you, rewarding you with feelings of fulfillment that you’ve never found from anyone or anything else. Every time he sinks into you, each movement harder than the last, you think that you see stars that only exist in this perfect little universe with him. Every gasping, grasping kiss sends you further into his control until you’re just a chorus of agreement with any request he could ever make of you. You scratch your nails down his back, scoring him with golden lines that’ll fade within seconds just for you to replace them, again and again as you’re pushed closer and closer to that unbearable edge of pleasure…

Until you spill over. 

The intensity of your orgasm knocks the air out of your lungs, your body tensing around his. He fucks through the waves of your climax until he achieves his own, biting out your name harshly before settling down with you, limbs still tangled with yours. 

His weight on top of you is heavy and reassuring. It grounds you, keeping you from floating too far into Cloud 9. Breathing hard, you press your forehead against his shoulder and bask in the warm afterglow. 

He must really be something dangerous, you think, to make you give up on everything but him so easily. But maybe there’s something too enticing about danger to resist, because you feel a stab of loss at the idea of being anywhere else with anyone else. 

“…I love you,” you say, testing the words out against his skin. You know he can hear you, but there’s something less terrifyingly real about the admission when you’re not looking into the molten gold of his eyes.

“Let’s go again,” comes Lore’s murmured reply, instantly.

Maybe you could get used to living like this.


End file.
